Chapter 2

Bonforth’s cock was in a state of perpetual and rigid erection, on being accompanied in the carriage by not just Madam Beatrice Belvedere, the woman who had taken complete control of him, and Constance, Hope, Beryl, women who’d enjoyed dominating him, but also by the supremely dominant Madam Agnes Fairchild, the whiff of whose cunt was anonymous to him as yet, but a scent which he’d know on ascending the gallows platform to appease the sadistic hobby of which she never tired. Made to kneel in the central aisle between the seated women, the magnificence of Madam Fairchild seemed even greater than usual, due to his low position, and though she was formally dressed in a black satin dress and not near naked but for the Basque she’d worn when hanging the male yesterday, the curve of her hips and bulge of her full breasts were emphasised exquisitely by the dress’s tight waist, Bonforth gaping at her whenever he had the chance, longing to masturbate at her feet.

Though Agnes showed no more than a contemptuous sneer of indifference on catching the kneeling cur eyeing her on one occasion, resulting in him dropping his head in deference to her, and blushing with the shame, her cunt was hotly aroused to match his erection, at having a male she’d soon have the pleasure of hanging, knelt at her feet in submission. Her pleasure increased as she thought on the possibilities of what their visit to the house now wrested from him might uncover, and bring his appointment with the gallows closer. Dressed in no more than a short white smock as he rode in the carriage on his knees on its way to the station, he looked as though he were already on his way to know the pleasure of the noose, and his erection which pulsed and bobbed under the commanding eyes of the women while he knelt before Agnes, showed he was more than eager to sniff at her cunt on the gallows platform.

The female drovers on the carriage, tended to bring a little more attention from the public than was required at times, and this was just such an occasion where the women had to be tactful, due to the ‘chattels’ they had on board. The carriage was expertly drawn in close to the goods delivery shed, and while the elegant Beatrice engaged the attendant within to distract him, the girls atop the carriage, two at the front, two at the back, quickly lowered a large trunk which also sat atop. The basket-like trunk was perforated with many small orifices within its weave; perfect for the transportation of an item of livestock, such as a large pet dog. Any casual observer will have noted the ease with which the item was moved and lowered to the ground, obviously empty.

The smiling girls then watched with spiteful pleasure as Bonforth was first made to kneel in it, whilst Constance and Julia Mountford also indulged in some dominant pleasure; Constance delighting in gagging him, first by popping a silk handkerchief rolled into a ball into the gape of his mouth, then deftly lifting her skirts, she peeled another she’d worn like a thong, from the stickiness and heat of her aroused cunt and equally perspiring anus, and covered his nose and mouth with the spicily perfumed fabric before keeping it tightly adhered to his face with a leather mask. The carriage girls giggled spitefully and flicked their whips on watching Bonforth’s cock perk high and rigid at being gagged by a dominant woman and awarded the scent of her cunt and anus for his journey.

The small feminine audience of stately and dominant women plus carriage girls had grown with the arrival of a second carriage containing Ella Hempleton, Sarah Randall, Anna Gresham, and the three noble African girls, Ekua, Abla, and Naja, each smiling at knowing the captive and defeated Bonforth would be longing to masturbate that rigidly standing cock which exposed his shameful pleasure in being dominated and humiliated by women, and all sneered with justified satisfaction as Julia tied his wrists behind his back with a leather thong, her cunt hot with arousal as Bonforth mumbled a whining complaint through the mask, jerking and thrusting his cock at the air, the bell dribbling a thread of sticky pre-cum at the dark pleasure at being teased by the lush scents of Constance’s cunt and anus ... and curtly denied the pleasure of stimulation by the decree of another dominant woman. Julia sighed with satisfaction as Bonforth sampled yet another degree in the price of his humiliating defeat to womanhood, which would culminate gloriously, displayed on a rope for their pleasure.

“You’ll not masturbate Bonforth ... you’ll keep your seed till it’s whipped from you by your former servant girls, who long to exact their revenge upon you once more.” Bonforth sniffed and snorted at the spicy fabric as he was pushed over, ready for the lid to go down, the humiliating denial already awarding him a darkly masochistic pleasure as Constance added her tease as the lid went down and was padlocked shut.

“Think on how you last came with that scent in your nose, and of what was discussed to make you empty your balls ... I’m sure this is the last time you’ll visit Chaddington House, and I’m sure we’ll find something there which’ll see you cross the green at the rear of Darkington Hall on your knees, all the sooner.” Bonforth’s erection pulsed rigid on seeing the uniform delight in the laughter and sneering of his feminine captors through the perversions in the trunk, and wriggling in bondage, the male who once travelled in pompous dignity to and fro from his stately home, now travelled bound in a box like an animal, both he and that home, now owned by a woman.

Trussed and held tight by the confines of his wicker prison, longing to masturbate but his bound wrists and tight position which had his throbbing and needy cock stimulated by nothing other than the fresh air it poked into, Bonforth had ample time to also think long and hard on his general position, that cock pulsing as he snorted at the lush vaginal and anil scents he’d been gagged with, his sexual mentality now ceding completely to the submissive and masochistic side the women had brought from him. He knew he was doomed to hang, but that the women would build up to that erotic termination of his life through teasing and through association with him, to ensure they received the utmost pleasure and smug satisfaction when he was eventually - and inevitably - awarded the rope by them. However, as the train rattled toward the stop near Chaddington Hall, his cock pulsed pre-cum at the thought of a more urgent appointment with the gallows, as they were bound to discover more about his sordid association with the three rogues who had known the pleasure of the noose, and now resided in cages at Darkington.

The aching of his cock knew no respite as his eyes were treated to bright daylight, the darkness of the goods wagon flooded with both light and the sound of feminine giggling, as the doors were opened and two porters helped put the heavy box on a flat carriage, ‘manned’ by two jodhpur clad and buxom lasses, the sight of the whip wielding women, already exciting the porters, the more formally dressed audience of women, sneering furtively as one of those porters sniffed at the air, his nose having caught a whiff of something distinctly feminine - the snorting and drooling of Bonforth in the warmth of the carriage, having livened the exquisite scent of cunt juiced thong, deliciously. Constance was quick to act, as the obviously aroused porter flicked his eyes between wicker basket and stern horsewomen.

“ ... it’s err ... a bitch on heat ... hence confinement in the box, to keep wanton hounds at bay.” The porter blushed a little, amusing the women, he, sensing they’d noted his curious nasal interest ... the thought that it was a dog in the box, repulsing him, and curing his budding erection almost immediately. The two porters were further astounded by the curious affair, as after assisting in hauling the box upon the rear of the flat and open cart, they received further instruction, from Madam Beatrice.

“No, no ... please place it to the fore, under the feet of my driver’s...” The two males were astounded but we’re more than obliging in shifting the box under the seat where two plump backsides were ogled readily, and forward, to see those broad thighs and boots lifted, the female owner giving the haughty looks ... and a gentle flick of their whips as they did so, for good measure, as they then rested their boots upon the wicker.

“ ... she likes close company, you see ... and we want her to see the approach of her home, having been from it for so long.” The two porters continued to marvel at the lush thighs and tight, breast enhancing jackets of the feminine drivers whilst the entourage of women mounted the two following, and more accommodating carriages, the males never once questioning why a bitch that desired such close company, had travelled alone and in darkness aboard the train. Both had the same sordid thoughts in mind as they watched this Fabulous horsewomen arc their bodies and use those whips in earnest, whilst giving those porters stern but suggestive smiles. Two wives would not be entertained carnally that evening, as two sets of balls would be deleted of seed several times that day, in the covert act of vigorous masturbation.

Bonforth was allowed no such erotic relief, but as per the spite of the women, had his submissive side tormented deliciously, bound, gagged with a soiled thong, boxed, and riding to the expansive home he once owned, under the broad thighs and boots of womanhood, each crack of their whips having him tense and long to spend in utter submission. The two women were content to say nothing throughout the journey from the village to the estate’s outskirts, but give the odd cynical laugh as they felt him jerk in the box at the sound of their whips, the two easing themselves as far forward upon the seat as they could, parting their broad thighs slightly, to ensure the eyes they knew would be upon them, could see the clearly defined camel-toes of the cunts through the material, cunts in a state of lush arousal, both pairs of jodhpurs blotted at the crotch with the essence of that arousal.

They laughed with contempt on hearing the desperate snorting of their captive prize, as he furtively hoped to take in their scent as well as that of the thing he’d been so smartly gagged with, the spite and cruelty of the two women peaking, as the cart crested a rise, and the formidable sight of Chaddington Hall came into sight. One of them screwed her boot into the wicker as though snuffing out a spent cigar.